Motel 6 massacre By C James And she didn't relish the idea of tearing telephone books in half Back finally in her room at Motel 6, Angie felt listless. drained. She lolled about restlessly on the too soft, spongy mattress. It was a humid night in July and the seventy-plus temperature didn't help matters in the least. Beads of sticky sweat pooled under Angie's thick, muscular arms. Despite being stripped down to only her bra and panties, Angie was still suffering under a heavy, suffocating layer of nocturnal south Texas heat. The night promised to be an identical copy of the past four nights. Hot, sticky and unbearable. Only sleep could bring some merciful release. but that wouldn't occur until well beyond midnight. Not that Angie could sleep anyway. She couldn't. Especially not after such a dismal fiasco. Actually, she had absolutely no regrets. She'd done what she had always wanted to. A two week suspension was little more than a rather costly slap on the wrist. It meant a month without pay. But Angie didn't much care at this point. To hell with the whole phony game. And that's precisely what triggered her rebellion. It had to have been the phoniness. What other reason could there be? The very nature of the so- called sport had taken its toll, driven her to commit an act so extreme that she couldn't in good conscience ever return. And why should a woman with her pride and ability be expected to endure something that demeaning? But she'd grown weary of all the fakery, the stupid antics and idiotic posturing. routines. After all, in a legitimate sport, she would have already been the undisputed champion. But it wasn't, and she wasn't. But there wasn't anything even remotely real about it. It was like a poorly choreographed ballet or a boringly familiar B-movie. At best it was an exhibition of acrobatics. at worst, it was a cheap circus sideshow with all the partici- pants parading as clowns. So, why had she gotten herself involved in this silliness in the first place? Well, it was no secret. It was the money that kept her going; at least it had in the beginning. Who could scoff at a thousand-plus a week? And Angie earned considerably more than most because of her striking physical presence. Sure, professional wrestling was a fraud. but at least Angie looked the part. A powerfully built brunette, Angie was 5-8" and 175 pounds. Angie McCall was believable, unlike many so-called "lady wrestlers" whose fat and flab spilled out all over. And that's why she couldn't stand it any longer. She couldn't tolerate the script when it called for her to lose a match to some overweight bleached blonde or some cute, skinny little thing. Unfortunately, there were too many occasions when she had to pretend, to play the role of loser. For awhile, she'd been able to rationalize the losing. But before long, she found herself resenting it. And that's what ultimately led to her "losing control" that night in San Antonio. The San Antonio promoter had called her at the last minute to serve as a replacement for another woman who did nothing but lose to the up and coming. Angie was slated to wrestle local favorite, Sabrina Starr. In fact, Starr was supposedly the owner of the Southwest Championship belt. Now of course, championships are totally meaningless in pro wrestling and there are countless regional champions both male and female throughout the country. A wiry redhead of average height and perhaps 140 pounds, Sabrina Starr looked quite pleasing to her Texas partisans. She had the look of a rodeo queen or a country-western songstress. Sabrina Starr was the crowd-pleasing Texan from her monogrammed cowboy boots all the way to her buckskin wrestling jacket. Angie watched in utter disbelief as Sabrina galloped down the aisle from her dressing room while a live country band played some dopey song about the Alamo. Angie could hardly believe how such blatant corniness could work so perfectly in manipulating the passions of the crowd. Drooling male idiots strained for a fleeting touch of Sabrina's body as she hurried down the aisle to the ring. They would reach out desperately from their folding chairs and grab at her. But Sabrina would quickly elude their grasping hands, all the while smiling and waving. As always, she and Angie had met earlier in the day to go over the evenings performance. Angie could tell that Sabrina was a bit nervous from the very first moment. There wasn't the usual friendliness. the kidding and joking around. First, Angie intimidated the cowgirl by flexing her 16" guns for a couple of publicity photographers. Later, while she and Sabrina rehearsed their respective moves in the ring, Angie made Sabrina even more apprehensive when she applied a standing full-nelson and exerted just a bit more than the usual pressure. Sabrina complained loudly as Angie bent her body in half like a soggy matchstick. Although she couldn't remember making a conscious decision. sometime between the full-nelson incident and the actual match, Angie decided to deviate from the script. While the assembled throng of hicks and morons cheered their heroine during the announcer's introduction. Angie McCall rocked back and forth in her corner. She was eager to lock-up with the redheaded cowgirl and show Sabrina along with her simpleminded fans just who the best woman really was. Not long after the bell sounded. Sabrina rushed at Angie and applied a standing headlock. Angie was supposed to howl in pain, stamp her feet, and then let Sabrina take her down to the mat. But Angic wasn't about to bolster this bimbo's career by playing the victim. Instead, Angie shocked Sabrina by hauling her effortlessly into the air and then dropped her like a sack of cement on her butt. Humiliated, Starr bounced back to her feet and the women locked bodies in a struggle for control. But Angie soon overpowered the redhead and bulled her back into a ring post. Then, holding Sabrina at bay. the heel of Angie's hand stretching the redhead's neck over the ropes, she cut loose with a shuddering forearm smash to the chest. Stunned, the cowgirl's head and body bobbed from side to side, much like a jack-in-the-box. Angie followed up with a second, third and fourth forearm which left the redhead withering in the corner. In order to prevent the unsteady cowgirl's total collapse, she leaned her bodyweight against Sabrina, pinning her against the turnbuckles. Horrified by the imminent slaughter, the crowd roared in dismay. Angie was oblivious to their protests as she draped the limp Texan across her broad shoulders and carried her to the center of the ring where she briefly paused before slamming Sabrina to the canvas. The Texas tornado flopped around on the mat while Angie dared her to rise. She finally managed to crawl to her knees before being driven back down by several stiff kicks to the head. Mean Ms. McCall had beaten the storm right out of the redhead, and when Sabrina somehow wobbled to her knees again, Angie decided to close the show. Sabrina actually let out a scream as Angie reached down and roughly took hold of her hair. Yanking on the redhead's hair, Angie forced Sabrina's neck and head between her massively muscled haunches. Then, as the cowgirl's plaintive screams grew more muffled, Angie's powerful thighs closed around her victim like a pair a fleshy pincers. The relentless squeezing of the standing head~scissors threatened to decapitate Sabrina who with flailing, slapping arms, tried to pry her head from between the crushing pillars. Finally, the referee intervened in a last-ditch attempt to rescue the redhead from certain defeat. Angie had spotted him seconds earlier as he received his instructions from the promoter who had beckoned him to the edge of the ring apron. An obvious conspiracy was now in full motion. Thrusting a finger in Angie's face, the referee commanded her to release her hold on Sabrina. Then, he began counting, one, two, three . . . warning her to either release the hold or face disqualification. Having realized that no matter what, the fix was in, Angie ignored his repeated warnings and continued punishing Sabrina with the scissors. Seconds later, the bell suddenly sounded and the referee signaled that the match was over. There was no point in arguing the matter. Angie had been disqualified. Sabrina Starr was declared the winner even though she lay whipped and virtually unconscious at Angie's feet. The reality of the injustice was not wholly lost on the crowd. A smattering of fans actually booed the bizarre decision as Angie left the ring. As she climbed through the ropes, Angie glanced back at Sabrina who was being helped to her feet by the referee. Pale and shaky, the cowgirl's arm was raised in victory; but it appeared that the referee was literally keeping her from falling back to the mat. News of Angie's suspension didn't reach her until she returned to her room at the Motel 6. It came in the form of a phone call from the so-called commissioner of the International Wrestling Federation. He informed Angie that her actions were in direct violation of her agreement with the local promoter, (i.e. her agreement to allow Sabrina Starr to win the match). So disgusted was Angie by this time, that she didn't bother to dispute the edict. She had fully expected to be suspended and accepted the inevitable without protest. A thirty-day suspension meant nothing anyway. And if she wanted to wrestle professionally again. there were countless other wrestling circuits she could choose from. But maybe she'd find something more dignified. more suitable for her talents. Angie remembered that troupe of traveling strong-women who'd contacted her some months back. Perhaps she could get a gig with them. But that sounded too much like a circus atmosphere as well. And she didn't relish the idea of tearing telephone books in half, bending steel bars in her teeth or carrying hefty men around the stage like babies. It was just another sideshow gimmick, and Angie couldn't be excited over the prospect of being a freak attraction. So, as Angie McCall drifted off into a sweaty Texas slumber, her mind's eye meandered in uncertainty. The next morning, Angie slept in till nearly ten. And that's when the reality of her situation finally sunk in. She had at least thirty days, possibly longer to contemplate her future. And her rent was paid for the week. Why not relax then for the duration and enjoy her enforced vacation at Motel 6? The day, like the previous night, was hot and muggy. And the idea of clothing herself was an option she quickly dismissed. So instead, Angie decided to spend the day basking her tired body in the sun at poolside. The pool at the Motel 6 was usually deserted until at least mid-afternoon which insured her of some quiet privacy. She simply wasn't in the mood for the curious, wide-eyed stares that her muscularity most often produced. Clad in her skimpiest string bikini, Angie reclined in a lounge chair after applying a generous amount of sun-screen. Within a very few minutes, the tension drained from her body. Behind her dark glasses, her eyelids shut and gently fluttered while she thought of absolutely nothing in this world. But her deep and restful peace came abruptly to an end as she heard the sound of human voices approaching. Her eyes opened to narrow slits. Angie watched as d pair of tall and tanned blonde intruders invaded her space. They giggled as they played catch with a volleyball. Angie watched in annoyance as the blonde babes took their positions on either side of a makeshift volleyball net tied between two trees. Though they were only perhaps twenty feet away, Angie was determined to ignore them as she shut her eyes and turned her head to the side. This strategy worked for a while as the blondes seemed content in batting their volleyball back and forth over the net. But soon. the blondes grew louder and bolder. They'd also grown bored of their game, and Angie overheard some remarks which were clearly derisive and intended for her ears alone. "Take a good look. Isn't she gross?" The other blonde echoed agreement and snickered. "Yeah . . . why would you wanna look like that?" "Good question. But maybe she wants to be a man." "Shit . . . most men don't have muscles like that. And you know what? Big muscles don't make you strong. They're just for show." "Really?" Now, thinking that they had Angie right where they wanted her, the blondes exchanged confident smiles. "Okay . . . " they chimed in together. But the more confident blonde still had a question. "We're game . . . but just what're the rules?" Angie looked at her and laughed. "Two against one . . .and you're asking for rules? Fine.I'll lay down the rules. No~holds-barred except for slapping, punching and hair-pulling. Can you live with that?" "Sure, but you're still gonna get a royal ass-kicking," smirked the big-mouthed blonde. "Hey, it's your call, cutie. Let's find out what you've really got." Angie stood at the ready and waited for her blonde foes to make their attack. When they both seemed to hesitate. Angie called them on. "What's your problem? Am I still too big for you? Hell, together you must have about a hundred pounds on me. Let's get it on." This final taunt must have stung because it sent the bikini- clad blondes rushing at Angie with a vengeance. And at first, it appeared as though Angie had underestimated her rivals. While Angie hand-wrestled and held-off the less aggressive one, the loudmouthed leader quickly leaped onto Angie's back and secured a pretty good body-scissors. Her predicament worsened when the blonde attacker combined a choke as well. "Of course. She just looks strong. In fact, I'll bet you that she isn't really any stronger than either one of us." "YOU THINK SO, DO YOU?" Angie couldn't stand their insults any longer as she climbed off the lounge and faced them. "Look girls . . . If you have something to say to me. I'm right here." Angie adopted an unwavering stance as she folded her massive arms across her chest. One of the blondes suddenly looked frightened while the other openly scoffed. "Listen . . . you don't scare me at all. And if you were just a little closer to my size, I'd tie you in knots." Angie was both amused and miffed by the blonde's foolish temerity. "Really? Well. I doubt whether a Barbie doll like yourself could tie a knot for a hair ribbon. But I'll tell you what. If you and your little friend would like a shot at me, then let's go for it." The blondes glanced at each other tentatively for a moment before the bolder one took up the challenge. "What exactly do you have in mind?" "What do you think, cutie? 1 propose a simple wrestling match right here on the grass. And to make things more even, I'll take both of you on at the same time." Then, as Angie sought to dislodge the blonde from her back. the other one began pounding her fists into Angie's stomach. Actually. the punches had little effect on her washboard abs, but Angie was angrered nonetheless. They'd agreed to no punching. And now, here was this skinny bitch punching her in the gut. That offense apparently generated enough anger to turn the tide of battle. Because Angie suddenly reached back, grabbed cutie by her blonde locks and peeled her screaming off her back. Amazingly, she did this while straight-arming the belly punching blonde in the face and shoving her to the grass. Meanwhile, Angie now had cutie moaning in a side-headlock. Eager to work on them both, Angie hair-pulled the other one back to her feet and headlocked her as well. The double headlock was an incredible feat to behold and Angie smiled down on her suffering captives. "How's it going down there, girls? Having fun yet?" Their inaudible responses were better unheard as each woman fought to extricate herself from the neck-numbing effect of the headlock. But Angie soon had a better idea. Grasping them both by the hair, she yanked them paralell to each other and then cracked their noggins together like a couple of walnuts. Staggered by the collision, the dazed blondes reeled on rubber legs. The time had come to take them down and take them down hard. Assuming a boxer's stance, Angie advanced on the blonde who had dared punch her in the belly. Angie's flicking jab stung the blonde's head like the tail of a scorpion. Her head snapped back under the impact and her knees wobbled visibly as Angie backed her across the lawn. Tired of toying, Angie blasted the blonde with a crisp right-cross to the jaw. Then she instantly followed with a breathtaking left-hook to the tummy. And as the skinny blonde began toppling forward, Angie drove her down for good with a slashing forearm across the back. Angie then quickly turned her attention back to the loud- mouthed leader who tried to make a run for it. But Angie was not to be denied, and the hot pursuit ended at the edge of the pool where Angie tackled her from behind and they both plunged into the water. A brief splashing struggle ensued before Angie overpowered the ringleader, taking total control with a crushing full-nelson. The blonde bigmouth winced and howled as the hold's powerful leverage forced her chin down into her chest. She dangled helplessly in Angie's grasp. Her arms flailed above her head as Angie's version of the medieval "rack" stretched her neck to the breaking point. Then, imitating another cruel torture device, Angie began dunking her blonde victim's head repeatedly into the water. From ten to twenty seconds at a time, Angie kept the bigmouth submerged. Her screams were soon nothing more than soggy gurgles as the numerous, prolonged dunkings sapped her strength completely. Her movements slowed as Angie's full-nelson manipulated her like a puppet and prevented her from actually drowning. Then, sensing that her rival was at last finished, Angie steered the comatose blonde to the pool's edge and then flopped her torso over the concrete rim. That's when Angie realized the other blonde had taken flight. The blonde accomplice was nowhere to be seen. Lucky for her.